Chips Ahoy and Hot Chocolate
by miley-avril
Summary: Emma finally breaks down after everything that's happened when Snow and Charming leave her home alone for fifteen minutes. When they come back, the apartment is destroyed. Charming panics, Snow doesn't, and all Emma wants is Chips Ahoy and hot chocolate. Charming Family fluff with Snowing to the rescue. Daddy!Charming, Mommy!Snow. Rated T for minor language.


**HI EVERYONE! I'VE HAD THIS IDEA FLOATING AROUND IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE, AND I'VE FINALLY DECIDED TO WRITE IT. I'M TAKING A FEW LIBERTIES IN THIS IF NO ONE MINDS, ALTHOUGH I THINK ALL OF IT IS ENTIRELY POSSIBLE. IF YOU HAVE A MOMENT I'D LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK. HAPPY READING!**

**I DO NOT OWN ONCE UPON A TIME. ABC DOES.**

When Snow and James got home from a quick, impromptu run to the grocery store due to Emma's adamant request for Coco Puffs, they certainly weren't expecting their twenty eight year old daughter to have completely destroyed the quaint apartment in the fifteen minutes they were gone.

As husband and wife stare at the first floor, their mouths are agape.

"Maybe someone broke in." James says, his eyes sweeping around the mess. "What if they took Emma!"

"Relax, Charming." Snow sighs. "No one broke in, and even if someone did, I highly doubt he or she would take a grown woman –Emma, no less."

"But we were gone for fifteen minutes." He protests. "And things certainly weren't like this when we left."

"_Charming_." She says again, a little firmer but her eyes still full of love. She places a hand on her shoulder. "Everything's fine. Emma just had a little… temper tantrum."

"Temper tantrum?" James raises an eyebrow. "I don't think so, Snow. She's a little old for that."

"No." She shakes her head. "Take the kitchen, for instance. See how the fridge has been untouched, but all the cabinets have been emptied? She was looking specifically for something. My guess? The emergency package of Chips Ahoy I keep for situations that require chocolate."

"Then why destroy the rest of the place?" James stares at his wife in amazement, wondering how she can know their daughter so well.

"She didn't find them." Snow answers simply. "So she moved to the nearest room –the living room– to take her anger out on. That's why the lamp is on the floor… and the coffee table's been overturned. Oh, man, she threw the vase."

"You liked that one?" He scratches his head, trying to wrap his mind around everything.

"Not really, no. After the toaster incident, I made the apartment Emma-proof. I left nothing I actually liked within her sight."

"Is she still in the apartment?"

"She was here when we left and the picture over the door is still straight, so yes, she's still here."

"Does she have anything breakable up in her room? Cause if there's glass and she broke it and stepped on it she could've cut her foot –Snow what if she's hurt." Uncharacteristic panic seeps into James' voice and he takes his wife by the shoulders and shakes her gently, wondering why she isn't as worried as he is. "Snow, we have to go check on her."

"Charming." She pulls him back to her as he tries to make a beeline for the stairs. "She's probably sleeping. Destroying a whole apartment takes a lot of energy." As soon as the words leave her mouth, a loud crash resonates from upstairs.

"She's not sleeping." In an instant James is on the stairs, taking them two at a time, his wife not far behind. "Emma!" He calls, barreling through her door and skidding to a stop before stepping on one of various items strewn about the floor.

"Haven't you heard of knocking!?" The blonde yells, her chest heaving from anger and frustration.

"Charming!" Snow scolds.

"Are you okay?" James asks, ignoring both of his girls' comments. He winces as he realizes the obvious answer, but it's the first question that came to mind and he's about to have a panic attack.

"Get out!" Emma nearly screams before shoving her father through the doorway and slamming the door in his face. James stands in the hallway looking dumbfounded.

"She just slammed the door on me."

"She's not a teenager." Snow gently reminds him.

"Yeah, well, she's acting like one."

"I've never seen her freak out _this_ bad." She says quietly. "She's gotten mad and broken a few things, yes, but not to this extent."

"She's not okay." His eyes never leave the door that is hiding his daughter from him.

"I agree with that assessment."

"So what do we do?" He asks, staring at the door as if it'll give him an answer.

"Let's talk to her." Snow's about to grab the doorknob when he pulls her back.

"She's not in the talking kind of mood, Snow." James points out. "Maybe she just needs some more time to break stuff and then she'll calm down."

"Look, Charming, this anger she's feeling right now… it's her first reaction to anything. She gets mad. And then she feels the pain, gets mad at herself for allowing herself to care enough to get hurt. It goes on like that for a while until there's no anger left and then there's just a hurt little girl and she just… she needs someone, Charming. She needs _us_, her parents. We just have to ride the wave of fury."

"I thought you said you've never seen her quite like this."

"I haven't. But this is a magnification of when she'd come home after Regina wouldn't let her see Henry. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"At the stables. He'll be there for another hour and a half. I guess she picked a good day to throw a temper tantrum."

"Come on." Snow places her hand in his and squeezes. "Let's make our daughter feel better." She knocks, and they hold their breath, waiting for the blonde's response.

"What?"

"Emma, can we talk to you for a minute?" The brunette squeezes her husband's hand again to keep him quiet.

"Are you getting a divorce?" The two almost laugh at their daughter's attempt at humor, but the tone Emma uses shows she didn't put any real effort into being funny, yet she's still trying to make the situation seem less of a big deal than it actually is.

"No–"

"Then go away."

"Emma–"

"I said _go away_!" If anyone else was the one trying to get Emma to talk, he or she would have been out of the apartment in less than thirty seconds. But Snow knows her daughter very well, much to the latter's chagrin, and she knows when the blonde's fighting tears, just from the sound of her voice. Maybe Emma wants them to leave her alone, but Snow –and James, too, if he knew exactly what was going on– isn't about to let her daughter deal with whatever's going on alone.

"Well, we're not." Snow says firmly. "We're here for you, we love you, and we're never leaving you. I don't know exactly what's upsetting you since it could be any of a hundred things right now, but you don't have to deal with it alone." The two once again hold their breath while waiting for Emma to respond. Finally, she opens the door with a slightly less angry look on her face.

"Sorry about downstairs. I think Henry found the cookies." The blonde stares intently at her feet, shifting her weight.

"I noticed." Snow says gently, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Emma, what did Regina do?" James asks, and Emma's head shoots up.

"N–nothing. Oh, guys, look, just because I'm mad… it doesn't always mean Regina did something."

"That's… good." He says stiffly. Why can't it ever be as simple as Regina made some derogatory comment?

"So what _is_ bothering you?" Snow prods.

"Nothing." Emma repeats. "I'm fine." She attempts to go around her parents, but a hand on her shoulder stops her. James, seeing that she's staying put, drops his hand back to his side.

"I think the apartment would disagree." He says.

"Well, it's an inanimate object, so it can't." Despite Emma's comment and cold attitude, her parents are still looking at her with all the love in all the worlds, and no amount of willpower is stopping the tears from pooling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm being such an awful person right now and I know I'm reverting and I'm putting my walls back up and I just can't help it and I'm so _so_ sorry…" A sob escapes her throat, and Emma's hand flies up to stifle any more. A treacherous tear leaks out of the corner of her eye and makes a trail down her cheek. Snow and James literally trip over each other to embrace her, which elicits a small, tiny squeak of a laugh that mixes with another strangled sob. A brief flash of doubt fills James –he's never seen his daughter cry, and has no idea what to do with her– but as quickly as it comes, it goes, feeling his wife's presence beside him. Somehow, he lowers the three of them to the floor. As Emma's body convulses with emotion, Snow and James' eyes meet over her head, both sharing an equally concerned look; Emma is dead silent even as she comes undone with grief. James doesn't know how long they stay like that, but after a while, Emma's erratic and shallow breathing finally evens out. Snow whispers,

"It's okay to move her. She's a heavy sleeper. She gets that from you." She untangles herself from her daughter, and helps James place Emma in his arms. They lock eyes again, being reminded of a very similar situation from twenty eight years ago –minus an imminent, evil curse. Sidestepping a few boxes, books, and pillows, he places Emma on her bed. Snow pulls the covers up, and they both place a tender kiss to her forehead.

Once back downstairs, he starts the water for hot cocoa.

"Oh my God." He breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That was scary."

"I'd take mad Emma over that any day." Snow agrees, then sighs, fiddling with her ring.

"I don't just mean the whole thing, you know, dealing with that, I mean… _seeing _her like that." He rakes a hand through his hair.

"She _does_ have feelings, Charming. For all her exterior toughness, she's just a hurt little girl who wants desperately to love and be loved."

"We did that to her." He states glumly, taking the water out of the coffee pot and pouring it into three mugs. Even Prince Charming needed hot chocolate with cinnamon every once in a while.

"Charming, don't say that." Snow reaches over the counter and strokes his cheek. "We had three options: let her be a cursed infant for all eternity, let Regina kill her, or send her through a magical wardrobe to let her escape both fates. Did it work out exactly how we wanted? No. But I think everyone can agree that it had the best end result."

"I don't know much about her past, and I'm not going to ask you because it's Emma's story to tell but… I do know that it wasn't good."

"That's an understatement." Snow interjects.

"The scariest thing about what happened upstairs is that…" He sighs, not even sure how to word this. "She was silent, Snow. You know how hard she was crying. There should have been _some_ sound, something. Is she always like that?"

Snow ponders this for a moment before responding, "No. When Graham died, she called me to come pick her up. At least she had the sense not to drive. You know the front hall, when you first enter the station? She was behind her desk –now it's your desk– so she couldn't see me and I don't think she heard the door open over her own sobs. But once she did notice I was there, she just… stopped for a moment. And then I moved Graham's head off of her lap and pulled her up, and she latched onto me and started crying again, but as she did tonight. So unless she's alone, she doesn't make any sound. I'm sure that's from growing up in the foster system." Snow busies herself with her cocoa.

"What do you mean?" As scared as he is to know the answer, he finds that he's just as scared of never getting an answer. Suddenly, she feels guilty for knowing more about their daughter than he does, and that guilt overpowers the guilt she feels about spilling some of Emma's secrets.

"Don't tell her I told you this or she'll kill me." Snow glances up the stairs to make sure the blonde is still asleep. "Emma learned from a very young age that bad people prey on weakness and vulnerability. She still has her baby blanket–"

"I know. When you guys were back home, I kind of went in her room and found it." James looks sheepish.

"Why does that not surprise me? Well, she was five and–"

"She told you this? When?"

"I haven't even told the story yet, I don't see why you're so… _you_. But yes, she told me after I came home and saw she had had a few beers. This was… oh, I'd say about four months after she came here. _As I was saying_, she was five and sleeping with her blanket. One of the other kids at the foster house, I think she said his name was Jack… yeah, it was Jack, he was ten and he made fun of her for sleeping with it. She got upset and…" Again, Snow sighs, staring into her cup of hot chocolate, mesmerized for a moment by the swirls of light and dark brown. "That was the first time she realized crying gets you nowhere and she became emotionally closed off. Obviously to a lesser extent, but she was five. Five! She learned to hide her tears when she _did _cry… I know you say I'm lucky that I know her better than you do, but as much as I love knowing about her life, ninety five percent of it isn't pretty."

"I know." James wishes he could say something more comforting, but he has to settle for two words and a loving embrace. "So… what do you think she's so upset about?"

"Neal's back, Regina's evil again, Cora's running around, Hook's being Hook, Gold's grumpier than usual, Henry says he hates her… take your pick."

"Has she dealt with, you know, the wardrobe curse thing?" He asks tentatively.

"More or less." Snow shrugs, taking a sip of her cocoa and closing her eyes as she savors the warm liquid. "We had a nice chat in her nursery –which is in ruins, by the way."

"What!?"

"Shh! You're going to wake her up." Snow says.

"Really?"

"Yes. Everything's overturned and… I'm glad you didn't have to see it. I mean, on the bright side, Emma finally realized we love her and we wanted her. She understands that we did what we did to protect her."

"That's good." He kisses her, then wraps his arms around her. "You think she'll be okay?"

"Yeah, she just needs time. Think about everything that's happened to her–" Snow closes her mouth when they hear the stairs creaking. Emma emerges at the bottom, looking less angry. Her eyes are still red and puffy, her mascara's smudged, and her hair is sticking out in more than a few different ways.

"Is that for me?" She gestures to the blue mug on the end of the counter.

"Made especially for you by me." James smiles proudly, picking it up and handing it off to his daughter.

"Thanks." She smiles wearily, sitting on the end stool at the counter, one away from Snow. This does not go unnoticed by her parents, and they exchange another glance. "Don't think I don't know that you're having one of those creepy eye conversations. You've been having them ever since you got back from the store." Her eyes never leave the LED readout on the stove. "Crap! When's Henry getting home!?"

"Relax, in an hour. He's with his horse." James placates her.

"I can't relax, we have to do damage control." The chocolate liquid gold nearly splashing over the side of the mug, Emma slams it down before hopping off the stool.

"You said 'we'." Snow smiles.

"You think I'm cleaning this up alone?"

"Honey." James pulls her back to the counter. "We can worry about the mess in a little bit. It only looks worse than it is. What _is_ worse than it looks is you. What's the matter?" Sighing, Emma realizes she's not getting out of this.

"I just, you know, have had a rough few months. I thought my son died, then it turns out his adoptive mother gave him a cursed apple turnover to make it look like he was dead." She shudders at the memory, holding her mug closer in an attempt to transfer heat. "And then I broke a curse by accident, met my parents –Snow White and Prince Charming– got sucked into another world where I met Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, and Captain Hook. Climbed a beanstalk, got Captain Guyliner pissed at me, almost got my heart ripped out by the Mother of All Evil –which is ironic cause Regina is most definitely evil, though I'd say Cora's worse– where I learn that my heart can't be ripped out. My lucky day. Almost get killed getting home to my son after besting Captain Guyliner for the third time and now he's _seriously_ pissed at me, Cora got to Storybrooke along with everyone's favorite pirate, had to leave you guys again to play Marco Polo with Gold, find out that Henry's grandfather is Rumplestiltskin, see Neal again, find out he has a fiancé, now Henry hates me. So yeah. I've had an _awesome_ few months." Emma finishes her story with a groan, her head falling onto the counter. "You know, the worst of it is that I want so badly to be able to accept you guys. I already love you, but I don't know how to be a daughter or how to talk to you about anything other than the weather or Team Evil's whereabouts. I don't _want_ to have these walls anymore. You," she turns her body slightly to indicate she's talking about her mother, "once asked me if it ever got exhausting, never letting my guard down. And you're really freaking right." Her voice breaks in the middle of the last sentence, but she squeezes her eyes shut, determined not to cry again. She really can't take any more crying.

"Emma?" Snow says gently.

"Mhm." The blonde grunts through her elbow

"I keep an _emergency_ emergency stash of Chips Ahoy."


End file.
